


It's Love, Isn't It?

by dessertpunk



Series: Lightstairs Fics I wrote to Ghibli Soundtracks [1]
Category: Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy - Cassandra Clare, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Howl's Moving Castle AU, M/M, nothing really romantic happens sorry to disappoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 12:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15243852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessertpunk/pseuds/dessertpunk
Summary: Thomas' epiphany is certainly lackluster, but not unimportant.





	It's Love, Isn't It?

The castle was silent now. Or at least, the white noise of the gears turning and the legs moving was now uninterrupted by any of its inhabitants. Thomas smoothed the sheets, debating if he dared disturb this unusual peace. Alastair frequently came and left without a word, but that wasn’t what concerned Thomas. It was the blood.

His traveling companion made an effort to clean up the floors when he came home late at night before collapsing in his bed, but didn’t account for it to have spread under the cabinets, the hutches, and the sideboards. In broad daylight, Thomas might pretend it was bothersome because of the smell, but alone he could admit that the thought of Alastair’s injuries made his heart ache.

He pulled one foot out of his nook and placed it on the wooden floor. It was wet, but cold. As unpleasant as it felt, he knew that wondering about what might be on his own would be worse. He pushed through the desire to rest and walked to what he knew to be Alastair’s room. He had never entered, that was one of the rules, but he imagined what it would look like. Seeing the form he returned in every night made him think that perhaps it was just a bare room with a nest at the center, though knowing what he did about Alastair it could be anything. The rest of the castle was decorated in good taste, but it also wasn’t designed to be the safe haven for the troubled man-child that owned it. He took a quick detour to fill a wash basin with warm water and grabbed a washcloth just in case.

Thomas took a deep breath when confronted with the large, dark door that would lead to Alastair’s bedroom. He hung the washcloth on the side of the wash bin, and soon his trembling hand turned the doorknob. He didn’t know what kind of injuries Alastair’s human body would sustain, or if he was even in that form right now. He could only hope for the best, as he always had, and work through the problem in front of him.

“Leave,” Alastair groaned from a pile of blankets and feathers on the floor next to the bed. His wounds glowed a soft blue, and Thomas was entranced. He didn’t speak, he didn’t want his voice to falter, but he did continue to approach Alastair. He placed the wash basin on the floor near Alastair’s feet and felt his muscles unclench. “I told you to go,” Alastair whimpered, only exposing his right eye so to be able to see the intruder. 

He wasn’t fully human right now, or at least that’s what Thomas figured. It was hard to tell which feathers might be attached to his body and which ones might have already fallen off. The rosy-brown feathers were strewn all over the room, muting the bright colors that surrounded the pair. Some were embedded in the elaborate tapestries that hung from the walls, others poking out of plush toys, and others still were being used as bookmarkers. He dropped the washcloth into the basin and reached toward Alastair’s arm.

“I need to see all your injuries,” he asserted, dusting feathers off Alastair’s body. His query was met with a groan, but given the lack of further resistance Thomas continued dusting off feathers and started moving blankets until access to Alastair was unobstructed by anything else. He thanked Alastair before pulling the warm washcloth from the basin and beginning to wipe him down. Alastair was tense and Thomas’ efforts were clearly unnecessary since he was using his magic to heal, but it didn’t matter to Thomas. He would play dumb if asked, but he wanted to be here. Needed to be here, helping Alastair heal. He was in love, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was just really self-indulgent, wasn't it?


End file.
